Broken
by Andacus
Summary: Vignettes focusing on Kara, starting during Maelstrom and meandering through mid season four. K/L


I

It used to help - the sex and the ambrosia and the fighting. It used to make up for the pain, it used to paint over it in broad swipes of some dark, indiscernible color. But the paint oxidizes in the face of her destiny, turning red and blue and yellow before it finally rots and chips away, leaving her very nerves exposed.

And she just wants it to stop. The pain, it's with her always now, there's nothing that can bandage it.

There's one thing that can bandage it, but it's too scary. It's a fire and it's a pyre and it's looking right out into the unknown and knowing what's there. Unfathomable.

But she must. There is no way around it. She can either sit here with her torture and her hurt waving in the wind, causing distrust and suspicion or she can burn in that fire and heal.

It's not a decision really, not a choice. She knows it has to be done, but it's been too hard and too confusing. Seeing her mother, touching her papery skin and hearing her rasping breath wasn't real, not really. It was a lesson nonetheless.

She understands now, can see clearly why she had been reared in pain and damage and anger. It was wrong; the wrong message was sent; the wrong lesson was learned. But Kara can see the intent now, so clearly she is blinded.

She hears her name through the splintering light and the searing heat and she has doubts all of a sudden. If anyone can distract her - make her second-guess herself - it's him. He brings out the broken parts of her that she tries so hard to lock away in forgotten places, but they won't stay hidden around him. Clawing like the beasties they are, all of her neuroses and flaws and pain battle for attention and closure and healing. That is what he does to her – he makes her bad parts want to be better, he makes her want to be better, but she doesn't deserve that and she knows it.

"Kara!"

He can't stop her this time because he's finally won. She's going to make herself better; she's going to finally let all of those beasts claw at her face and her heart. He's always wanted this for her; he just doesn't know what this is.

She speaks to him because she can't stop herself. He deserves at least that much; after all she's done to him, he deserves an explanation, even if it makes no sense.

"Let me go." It's a plea for understanding, not permission, but she knows he's in too deep to even hear her anymore. His voice is breaking and she wants to weep for him, for how much he can't see just then, for how much this hurts him, even as it heals her.

She almost says "I love you" but the words won't come. It seems cruel somehow and she settles instead for another plea. He'll be happier once he lets her go, it's better that way.

II

Dradis blinks rapidly and she points her viper toward the fight, still confused and blissful and a little scared. She remembers what must have been dying and she remembers Earth and she remembers Lee and she's at a loss as to what any of that means. But her ship tells her she's been gone a measly six hours and her baby's never let her down before. Still, her intuition tells her something's wrong.

Apollo's on her six like he's stuck there - her very own sun god warming her back. They've done this dance a million times, but somehow this time it's different, this time the rhythm's off. He won't budge no matter what she does or what's thrown at him and she doesn't feel the sun god anymore, now he's something different. It makes her cold. Something is wrong.

"What's with you, Apollo? Afraid I might screw up?" She teases because she doesn't know what else to do.

He doesn't answer and she has to check her gauges to make sure that he's still there. He is. He always is.

She lands her ship, proud and full of Starbuck attitude like it's her frakking birthday, but no one's happy to see her.

One person is happy to see her. He clutches her, holds her and whispers that he loves her; that he's so happy she's there. She's confused; she's been gone longer than six hours before.

III

Later, maybe the next day, maybe only hours - she's lost track of time in the mess of her rapidly unraveling sanity - Lee comes to see her. His father's come and gone and done enough damage already, but she's never confused or linked the two, she knows better than that. She's happy to see him. Kara wonders what Zak would have thought and now that Lee's there she thinks she knows the answer to that.

They would have been an army in her defense, but just like all the things she touches, that reality is long gone, shattered lifetimes ago.

He's awkward and he's not and they're dancing again, only this time it's around each other instead of with. She stands to shake his hand and see him off because she loves him and she doesn't want to break him anymore than she has already, but she's so scared to touch him, so scared she'll never stop.

When he turns and kisses her, she only pauses for a moment, fighting with herself. If she gives in, if she kisses him back, it might hurt. She's never kissed him and not meant it, no matter what she's said to the contrary and every time she did, the worlds collided and everything went hell. But she can't resist; he's her sun and she needs him, especially when it's clear that he needs her right back.

It's only a moment before she's fused herself to him and the worlds move into position, ready to destroy themselves again.

IV

This ship, rank and hot and lingering of waste and residue, reminds her of that frakking algae planet and for just a moment she smiles, caught up in memories; hushed voices and warm palms and sweat and grime and secret moments that weren't so secret.

Her calm is slipping and it has been for days now. The ringing is fading and no matter what she does, it won't come back. She can't sleep for the dreams - some nightmares and others full of whispers and sweat and so haunting she fears sleeping because when she wakes up, she'll have to lose that feeling again. She's losing too many feelings. What else should she have to sacrifice? First her heart and now her mind?

She breaks and tells Sam the truth and feels even worse, but she tries to heal that break with her body because she can't understand how else to do it. It never occurs to her to just let it stay broken.

V

Everything crashes so monumentally that its only months later when everything manages to crash so much worse that she gains any perspective at all.

Harbinger of death. She hears the words over and over, rolling around in her head like bombs, ready to burst at any moment. She won't lead anyone to their end, she won't. No.

But she can hear the voices of her childhood, shrill and hateful, tell her that that's all she's ever been, all she's ever done. Kara shakes her head and pushes this away. She slaughtered those demons long ago – she made peace with lessons misheard and misunderstood. This is not about that.

Starbuck gets dragged back out, but she's a new and changed version and she chafes, but Kara can't walk around like Kara anymore or her own doubt and self-hatred will kill her. These people, the people she fights and rages for are all she has, they're her reason for being and she won't ruin them. If she has to die again to make it so, then she will. They're her everything. She can't break them too.


End file.
